


I'm Hopelessly Hopeful

by IWokeUpAFraud



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Angst, Imaginary! Patrick, Loneliness, M/M, Unhappy Ending, quarantine au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25351693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWokeUpAFraud/pseuds/IWokeUpAFraud
Summary: Pete isn't dealing well with the lockdown, but he tries to keep it together for him.Even if he only exists for Pete.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 3





	I'm Hopelessly Hopeful

‘Love, Pete.’ He wrote on the paper in his notebook. The one that was half full of letters that he could never send.

It's not like he would send them either way. He just wrote them to try to make sense of himself and to deal with things. Writing these letters made him feel less lonely.

He didn't have many friends, and he didn't want to bother the few ones he did have in fear of scaring them away. So he wrote letters to this guy, Patrick. And even though he never sent them, it made him feel slightly better.

He put away the pen and closed the notebook. He finally gathered the energy and stood up from the spot on his bed where he’d been lying down.

Downstairs, he grabbed the first thing he saw in the kitchen and called it his first meal of the day. Which couldn't be considered breakfast or even brunch, since it was past 7 pm.

The lockdown had messed his internal clock even more than it already was by default. Getting no sleep through the nights, napping through the entire morning to finally get some grasp of consciousness back towards the end of the afternoon.

As he heated the pop tarts, he narrated his actions to himself just to think of something. The days had become so monotonous that he was practically living on autopilot.

With the plate full of pastries, he retreated to his room, even though he didn't need to since he lived alone, but lying on his bed was better than doing so on the couch.

He picked up his laptop to watch something as he ate.

This is what his days had become in the last 3 months. Time became nothing more than an abstract concept that doesn't hold any meaning. Hours lost looking at a screen to make them pass faster. It was either that or having to listen to himself and his unfriendly thoughts.

He missed his few friends, he missed being able to go out, he missed having something to do. He missed human interaction, messages showing on the pixels of his screen just didn't cut it.

He missed being able to look at people, to touch them. He missed giving hugs to his friends or giving them a playful punch to annoy them.

And the only thing that got him through those times was Patrick. Knowing that he’d be there to listen to him and not turn away, be there and hug him until he fell asleep.

Of course, all of this was a big scene all made up in his head. Patrick couldn't actually hold him, but hugging the pillow and imagining that he did, worked just as well for him. All the words that Patrick whispered to his ear softly, as he slipped out of consciousness while the sun began to shine out his window, were made up by his brain. But a strong will to pretend they were real and the fact that he was already half asleep, would trick him into thinking he was in a safe space being taken care of.

———

It was 6 am when he finally rolled over, deciding he would try to disconnect for the rest of the morning. He draped an arm over his pillow and closed his eyes.

Behind his eyelids he could see Patrick, a cute guy with blonde hair, looking at him with those gorgeous blue eyes of his. Pete smiled fondly at him, still with his eyes closed, the whole scene developing in his head.

Patrick smiled back at him, and Pete couldn't resist the urge to hold him closer, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. When in reality all he did in the physical world was clutch his pillow tighter and bury his face in it.

But in his head it felt completely different, it felt real.

Behind his eyelids he could see him, looking at him with fondness.

“Hey, how was your day?” Patrick asked him, stroking his cheek softly.

“Meh, same as always,” Pete answered tiredly, “but I’m glad you’re here now.” He told him, squeezing him again.

Patrick giggled at him raising his hand to card his fingers through Pete’s messy hair. And Pete just melted into the imaginary touch, feeling himself sleepier.

“Go to sleep, babe. It’s late.” Patrick said to him. Pete whined softly, one foot already in the oneiric plain.

“It’s okay, I got you.” Was the last thing Pete pretended to hear before falling asleep.

–——

As the lockdown continued, this situation kept developing. To any outsider, it would’ve looked like Pete had spiraled into madness after months of being alone. But that didn’t matter to him, because he kept it hidden. Pete and Patrick’s very late night or very early morning meetings were a secret kept between the two of them. And the letters reserved only for one pair of hazel eyes that would deliver the words and messages to the imaginary pair of blue ones.

———  
The nightmare of lockdown did nothing but get prolonged. Over 100 days had passed by, and there were only so many frustrations a person could handle.

It wasn’t that hard for Pete to get frustrated. So when you put together the frustrations from today, plus the ones pent up from the over 100 previous days, plus the general tension that meant living through a pandemic stuck at home, he couldn’t take it.

He was lying on his bed, angrily frowning at the ceiling as he talked to himself. “How fucking sad my life has become, how fucking low I’ve sunken. I pretend my damn pillow is alive just so I can pretend to experience human interaction, for fuck sake!” He exclaimed frustrated, complaining to no one in particular.

That night when he went to sleep, he proceeded as he had for the last while, engaging with a conversation with Patrick before drifting off.

But this time he could see that Patrick wasn’t his usual self, he looked more concerned.

Pete was on his usual rant about his monotonous day. When he got to the end, he clung to Patrick, “Please don’t leave me.” Pete let out to the imaginary boy.

But Patrick looked at him with sadness. “Yeah, about that Pete, you’re right,” he told him, “Maybe this got too out of control.”

Pete couldn’t really understand what Patrick meant. “What? What do you mean?”

Patrick looked at him again. “I’m saying that I think I should go.”

“What? No! No, you can’t leave me!” Pete grabbed the pillow tighter, forgetting that it really wouldn’t make a difference.

“I’m sorry, Pete. But I think it’s for the best, you can’t carry on like this.” Patrick stroked his cheek for what it would be one last time.

“But I love you.” Pete tried to reason with him to make him stay. “I love you too, and that’s exactly why I’m leaving. It’s for the better. You can’t depend on me, Pete.” It was the last thing Patrick said to him, as for when Pete blinked, Patrick was no longer there.

He tried opening and closing his eyes, reimagining Patrick to see if he’d magically appear back, but to no avail. Patrick was gone, he had left him.

That morning Pete cried himself to sleep.

And the next one. And then the next one, as Patrick didn’t come back.

By the next week, he didn’t have any more tears left to cry, so he just lied in bed, waiting either for the Sun to come up or to sleep to claim him, whichever happened first. As he couldn’t fall asleep anymore without his imaginary companionship.

**Author's Note:**

> Today I present to you more coping writing, next time I post, who knows?
> 
> But now for real, thanks for reading and making it all the way to the end! I hope you enjoyed it and it didn't sadden you too much...
> 
> Edit: I won third place in a writing contest with this fic??? like whoa:'^  
> 
> 
> If you want you can come over and say hi over on [twitter](https://twitter.com/FINASOSOC)...


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